


The Hand That Feeds

by bucciaratissun



Series: Through fire and water [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Dubious Consent, F/M, Home Invasion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Violence, Obsession, Power Play, Russian Roulette, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24014059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucciaratissun/pseuds/bucciaratissun
Summary: Regardless of your circumstances, you should have never asked him for help.Please consider the tags before reading.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: Through fire and water [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756606
Comments: 31
Kudos: 266





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Ugh, I'm finally finished with my exams! So I decided to indulge myself and wrote this mob!Bucky au. Hope you'll enjoy! I'd be happy to see your feedback!

“And he just… what? Said he can’t send you anything at all, am I right?” Clint chuckled darkly, sipping his coffee from a huge blue cup.

“That’s exactly what he said.”

“Sounds almost like my dad. I guess he and your old man could be fighting over the “World’s biggest asshole” award.”

You smirked sarcastically, feeling utterly powerless, bitter, and hurt. Your mother was dangerously ill, and you could do nothing to help her. A minute ago you had received a message from your father, who left your family when you were barely 10, saying that he is not made of money and he has no chance to support his ex-wife even a little. The next second you tried fighting the urge to call him and wish him and his new family to rot in Hell.

Your mother needed several costly treatments and then an operation. Something you could by no means afford, still paying your student debts and living in a small rented studio at the outskirts of town. Despite having a stable job in the office, you barely had any savings of your own whereas your mother’s money was just not enough to cover all the costs. While you also applied for a medical loan, the banks were not too happy to see your income combined with the loans you already had. You felt like you were suffocating.

“Listen, we both know who I am and what I do.” Clint exhaled loudly, not looking at you and nervously scratching his head. “I’m not a good person. I’m still surprised someone like you managed to put up with me, not even mentioned last year when you just got me out of all that… mess.”

Oh, it was a big deal. You still shivered thinking of the night when Clint with a bullet in his shoulder barged through your front door and fell to the floor. He could not go to the hospital; he had neither family nor friends he trusted. You were pretty much the only person he could ask for help, and probably the only one who had enough courage to pull the bullet out of his body. 

You smiled tiredly, patting the man on the shoulder. Clint was a petty thief indeed, but he was not as bad as people often thought of him. Among your friends, he was the only one who was not afraid to be brutally honest with you.

“And I know only one way of getting so much money on such short notice. But… well, you realize what I’m talking about, right?” He finally lifted his head and watched you, gloomy and completely worn out. “I’ll be honest with you, I don’t really want you to do it. It’s unsafe, it’s scary, you might end up just like me or maybe even worse. But it’s your choice. If you say you want it, I’ll do what I can.”

Of course, you knew what he was talking about: the Scorpions. An organization running the town, the police, the business and pretty much anything that had value in it. Clint was working for them for a long time, and he could not get out regardless how many times he tried. In fact, a year ago was his last time. He did not risk getting another bullet.

You covered your face and fight back a sob. It was obvious the only people who could give you that money were the Scorpions, but you also knew damn well it would cost you your life. No more nice office job, no more quiet and peaceful evenings in your apartment, no more control over your own life. God knows what those people might do to you. Would you become a lowly drug trafficker? A prostitute? Something even worse? It horrified you to the core just thinking about all endless possibilities of screwing up your life. The visit to the place belonging to the Scorpions would be the end of you, undoubtedly.

But then again, you were not presented with many options: what else could you do to let your mother live? Without the treatment, she would be dead for sure. Could you simply come back to her, smiling sadly and saying you didn’t figure anything out? Watch her health deteriorating more and more with each day till she will not be able to stand on her legs? Listen to her crying in her pillow out of utter despair at night? Fake a smile every time you see her and give her some empty promises to help? And after a few months or a year if you are lucky, she would still face the inevitable. No, you could not do it. You could not. You were ready to do whatever it takes, to give up on your own life to let your mother live because no one else mattered but her. She was a strong woman, she would be able to handle living on her own without you by her side. She just needed to say alive, to have her health back, and you were determined to help her whatever the consequences awaited you.

You straitened your back and looked at Clint: you already sensed him regretting his decision to bring you to the right people. Surely, no one wanted the life he had since he condemned himself to work for the Scorpions.

“Take me there.”

He bit down on his lip and sighed heavily with exasperation.

__________

The place you saw looked nothing like you imagined – it was one of those boring, almost deserted offices with an old dusty red sign “Dana Sanders” and photos of houses and apartments for sale on dirty windows. Most people passed by this place every day and could hardly guess the dark secrets it kept or realize that the men they could see inside were a grave danger to anyone in the city. And it was the place you were desperate to get in. You shuddered at the thought.

“Remember to keep quiet before I come back.” Clint instructed you a hundred time and went to the back door to pull the shining door handle: it looked much more used in comparison to the soiled handle of the main entrance. “If anyone asks who you are, say your name and tell them you’re here with me to see Mr. Rumlow.”

You nodded, half expecting to hear shouting or some wild noises coming from the office, but it was oddly silent. Keeping your head low and looking at your modest black shoes, you did not dare to observe your surroundings once you were inside and just stayed close to the door. Clint patted your back awkwardly and disappeared in one of the corridors, leaving you to your dreary thoughts. What now? Would that mysterious Mr. Rumlow listen to the pathetic blabbering of Clint? If he would, were you sure you could face him and offer him your… services? Well, you have thought of what you could do for him, and none of the options was preferable to you. Anyway, you were just a marketing manager with no remarkable skills in any areas they were interested in. Given that situation, it should come as no surprise that they would kick both Clint and you out immediately. 

Sighing, you kept staring at the old creaky floor, partly damaged by water – you could see the bubbling around the edges of the dark laminated planks. You heard loud erratic footsteps of your friend, but nothing else. It was still eerie silent.

Was anything wrong? Was Mr. Rumlow really there as Clint expected him to be? 

One more minute passed before the man returned to you, confused and bewildered. Judging by the way he looked, you realized no one was waiting in the cabinet and bit your lip. 

“I don’t understand.” Clint grumbled, looking at the corridor and scratching his head in bemusement. “He said he would be here. We’re right on time, and this is the correct address. I just… I just don’t understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand.” You said quietly and dropped your eyes to the floor again. “He re-thought his decision to meet me and didn’t let you know. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Well, you might think he is too much of a big shot to contact me, but Mr. Rumlow is actually, you know, diligent. A perfectionist at anything he does, even stuff like that. He or someone of his men always sends a message if he can’t come, that I can tell you.” Your friend almost looked worried, and you tried to fight back a chuckle. “I think something happened to him, and that’s why he isn’t here with us.”

“It doesn’t matter now. I think we should go.” You whispered, nervously moving back to the door. “If you think he might show up later, we can wait in the café on the opposite side of the street.”

“Guess you’re right. Let’s go.”

However, once you reached for the door handle, a loud sound of the main door opening broke the silence, and both of you stilled. You gestured to the exit, but Clint shook his head furiously. It would not look good if two of you run once somebody got inside the office. You had to wait until somebody showed up and introduce yourself then.

You were suddenly close to panic, your heart beating loud, and raised your head for the first time to see the old corridor and walls that were white once, but now turned greyish, with yellow stains and streaks from cigarette smoke. Whoever was coming made you shiver with both excitement and fear. Was it Mr. Rumlow? If not, was it someone Clint could still talk to about you and your little issue? Feeling your hands shaking you clenched your fists and made a deep breath, pulling yourself together. How could you expect someone to listen to you if you were such a mess? You had to be prepared, you reminded yourself.

“Is anybody there?” 

Clint furrowed his brows upon hearing the voice of a man and shot you a strange look. You couldn’t recognise whether it was a good or a bad sign and stood still beside him when a stranger in a black striped suit appeared in the end of the corridor, apparently looking for someone. Once he saw you two, he smiled widely and quickened his pace. 

“Is it really you, clever girl?”

Quickly, you make a step towards him, leaving surprised Clint behind and looking wide-eyed at the man. Wait, was it James? James goddamn Barnes, the guy who sat right behind you in secondary school? He was twice bigger when you last saw him – and twice as handsome. His blue eyes were just as bright as you remembered them while his dark hair grew longer, and he slicked them back as if he were some Hollywood actor coming to get his first Oscar. The fine wool suit he was wearing most likely cost twice your paycheck, and all of a sudden you felt very self-conscious in your simple blue sheath dress. Well, this awkward feeling faded in the next second when the man smiled at you, and you saw the kid who desperately copied most of your history tests and even used some of your English essays as a base for his own. 

“Bucky?” You laughed still doubting it was really him.

“Who the Hell is Bucky?” Clint whispered behind your back and cleared his throat, taking his hands out of his pockets. “Good morning, Mr. Barnes.”

“Hey, Clint! Good to see you!”

You were taken aback by Barton’s unusually formal tone of the voice, but smiling Bucky made you concerns disappear rather quickly. He was already standing right in front of you, shaking your hand in his huge palm and looking at you as if you were his best school buddy.

“God, I think the last time I saw you was at the prom. How are you, Y/N? I’ve never expected to meet you in a place like this!” He continued smiling, but now the realization downed upon you: you were at one of the Scorpions’ offices, and judging by the way Bucky behaved, it wasn’t his first time here. Was he inside the system the same way as Clint? Thinking of his suit and the odd way he behaved, you bet he was.

“Well, I… I actually came here to talk to Mr. Rumlow.” A thin smile faded from your lips, your expression almost stern and serious. “But he’s not here, so we’ll take our leave.”

“Don’t you worry about him.” Bucky smirked, gently patting you on the back. “You’d better talk to me. I’m sure we’ll figure out what to do with your little problem, whatever it may be.”

Watching a bemused expression on your face, he laughed as Clint stiffened and pressed his lips tighter. If Barton knew of your connection to the man he feared more than probably anyone else in this town, he would think twice before bringing you here.

But you just stood there lost in your thoughts while the man in the suit faked his smile and gently laid his hand on your shoulder.

“It’s funny Clint didn’t mention me. You see, I’ve been running this place for the past few years. If anyone comes here to ask for help, I’m the one giving them a hand.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd be happy to see your feedback. And, of course, thanks for your kudos <3

You still found it hard to believe a man like Bucky was ruling over the Scorpions, but you had no right to object since you were in his cabinet, waiting for his decision. You calmed down a bit and shortly stated the facts as if you came here to close a business deal. Actually, maybe it was a good thing that Bucky was the one who sat in front of you in enormous swivel chair and listened carefully. He was not as intimidating as you expected Mr. Rumlow to be.

“I understand that this is a substantial amount of money.” You stated as a matter of fact, your expression stony and cold: you knew nobody here cared if you smiled or pretended you dealt with the matters like this every day. “But if it would not involve my mother, I am ready to do whatever it takes.”

Bucky looked at you almost amused, interlocking his fingers and watching you with a great interest.

“And what you think you might be doing if I decide to provide you with the sum you need?”

“For example, considering my own perfect state of health, I could become a donor organ.” It surprised you how calm you were when you basically offered him to rip your body apart and pull out anything he needed. “I can submit my medical reports and any other required documents to the organization in a matter of a few weeks at the latest.”

“Huh, you’re very direct.” He smiled at you as if you said something stupid, but you did not budge, frozen in your uncomfortable black chair. “I’ve always liked this part of you. But regarding your offer, I can say we don’t really deal with organ donations, it’s too much of a hassle today. What else could you help us with?”

Your heart dropped at his words, yet you refused to show how scared and frail you felt. Once you voice is feeble, they’ll push you more, you remembered Clint telling you just an hour ago. So, you held your head high and maintained your composure. Even if Bucky were an acquaintance of yours, the boy you knew once was long gone: you could see now the predatory gaze hidden behind his friendly smiles and a sympathetic expression of his face. He ate girls like you for breakfast.

“There always are drug trafficking, prostitution, theft… I don’t include murder though. I guess I’d be a pretty clumsy assassin.” 

Bucky laughed again at your words and sat back in his chair, clearly enjoying your conversation as if you intended to entertain him. 

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of assassins around. I could say the same about prostitutes, actually. I think you’d be surprised how many ladies are employed with us.” He winked at you, and you felt nauseated. “Maybe one of them is your colleague, a friend, a daughter of your boss.”

“Do you mean I would hardly fit there?”

“I’m afraid so. Not that I mean you’re unattractive,” he gave you one more of his wide smiles, “But I doubt you’ll be doing it as willingly as those girls who are ready to sell themselves for Michael Kors handbags.”

Well, he had a point. If that many people already gladly worked for him, why would Bucky lend you so much money when you could do nothing in return? It made no sense, and you had to figure out what would in this very minute.

“This leaves me with drug trafficking, theft or… administrative position in case you have any. If you remember, I was always good with numbers and reports.”

Bucky chew on his lip, pleased he decided to meet you in person when he heard Brock talking about your appointment. It seemed almost insane that someone like you decided to turn to the Scorpions for help. You being a criminal? The worst thing you had ever done in school was stealing a pen from your history teacher.

Well, you had a good reason to show up here: he remembered how attached you were to your mother. Most people came to him to tell the stories of their fucked-up lives, which usually had something to do with alcohol, drugs, gambling, or an incredible appetite for luxury. People never knew when to stop. In fact, Bucky quickly grew tired and was glad that now it was Brock’s job to deal with all this.

“Listen, how much time do you have?”

“Well, the faster the better, but the quote expires in two days.”

“I see.” He nodded, brushing his thumb across his lower lip. “Please write down your phone number. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

You took a long, deep breath, then slowly exhaled. Well, the man did not say no right away, though he could, indeed. You could see he hardly cared if he hurt someone’s feelings.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

__________

The next two days you spent in haze, glued to your cellphone. Clint was honest with you and said you should not expect much from “Mr. Barnes” – Rumlow was much easier to deal with, but you could not turn to him for help. Now it was up to Bucky whether to give you money or not.

How did he become the leader of the Scorpions? It sounded so surreal to you. Despite the details of his upbringing, there was nothing shady in Bucky Barnes you knew. He was not even much of a bad boy at school. You remembered him being a shameless slacker who sometimes talked back to his teachers, but nothing more than that. How did he end up at the top of the food chain?

Clint didn’t know much, only that before the Scorpions Bucky spent quit some time serving his country in sensitive areas somewhere in the Middle East. Maybe it made him the man he was today. Maybe he was dragged into business upon returning, and there was nothing he could do except to move forward. Clint laughed when he heard you saying it out loud.

Nevertheless, you were waiting. Bucky was your last chance.

The phone rang at the end of the second day. You were already drunk – the pressure was too much to handle, and you almost finished the bottle of white wine you bought some time ago. When you heard the noisy ringing, you thought you were delirious, but still got up from the sofa and reached for the cellphone, laying on the glass table.

“Hi, Y/N! Can you speak?” The next moment you felt sobered up completely. Bucky’s voice sounded too cheerful. He had some good news for you. 

“Hi! Sure, Bucky.”

“I haven’t figured out what you’re gonna do just yet, but, regardless, I’d be glad to help you. I have already made a deposit to the hospital’s account, so tell your mother she’ll be safe and sound, ok?”

God, you suddenly felt like dancing. Was it all a dream? Even with a possibility of becoming a pet of the Scorpions you felt like you had won. Your mother was going to get a chance to survive. Her medical expenses were already covered.

You realized you were laughing like a madwoman when Bucky chuckled on the phone and promised to call you again next week or so. Once he wished you goodnight and hanged up, you grabbed the bottle of wine and started drinking right from it, dancing in your long black tee and old shorts on the sofa. Oh, you could see the face of your mom when you would tell her she was going to be alright…

After that everything regarding the treatment went rather quickly. After two days in the town your mother had already left for Boston where the hospital was, and then she was immediately taken under the supervision of medical stuff. The doctors told you she had a good chance to survive since she was able to start the therapy early, and once again you were ready to dance in those cold white corridors.

However, once you returned home alone you had only one thing to worry about - Bucky did not call you the next week. You spent seven days waiting for your phone to ring again, but it was silent most of the time unless your mother wanted to say something to you. It was… unsettling. Once the feelings of happiness went away, you dreaded the day to hear Bucky’s voice again. What would he want you to do for him? Would he really make you a petty criminal? Did he have something worse in mind? You tried to refrain from thinking about it as your imagination run wild.

So, you were just living the same way as before. You woke up, went to work in your nice sunny office, then returned home and watched movies till you fell asleep. Occasionally you visited a small café around the corner to have a cup of coffee and meet with Clint. It almost felt like life had never been better.

But then you noticed more and more odd things started happening around, like misplaced books on the shelves or lack of one pizza slice inside the box in your fridge. Like someone had been inside your apartment when you were out for work. Of course, the idea itself sounded preposterous to you. Nothing was stolen – again, there was nothing to steal really except your laptop, a new fridge, and a pair of golden rings – and no secret messages were left. But you knew someone had been there. 

When you talked to Clint about it, he sighed and said, “You’re in the business now. I have no clue what Barnes wants from you, but he’s… warped. Corrupted to the core. He plays sick games, and that’s what he’s doing to you now. He _wants_ you to know someone had been in your studio.”

“But why? It doesn’t make sense. I mean, I could understand if he played with his enemies to show he has control, but why doing it to me? I have no power over him.”

“You see, you don’t realize one thing about him. He needs to show _he_ has the power. Over you, over me. Over Rumlow and all the people involved with the Scorpions. He gets off on controlling the lives of others. And no one wants him to go all power-trip on them, believe me, so you have to play along.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I need to stop writing at night since I'm too excited to fall asleep after that.  
> As always, I'd be happy to see your feedback. And, of course, thanks for your kudos <3

You figured out later that by playing along Clint meant pretending like if nothing had happened. Bucky enjoyed when people did not struggle, silently accepting his control over them. Whatever he wanted you to do, you needed to show you accept his rules first.

Come to think of it, he was a bit like that at school too, never enjoying the rules set by someone other than him.

Thus, you kept waiting for his call. It felt like eternity, but it was only a second week after Bucky had contacted you for the first time. He certainly tormented you to show off, to demonstrate the power he had over anyone and anything in this little town. You finally felt it was a mistake to come to him, but you tried to refrain from these thoughts. The only thing that mattered was the treatment of you mother, and now it was your obligation not to fuck things up. Even if Bucky had already payed, no one knew what he might do to your mother or you if you would not comply. 

He called you Friday morning, right before you left to work. 

“Hey girl!” His loud energetic voice made you jump a little. “How are you?”

“Morning, Bucky.” Making a quiet breath, you responded calmly. “I’m ok, thanks. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Actually, I have some good news for you.” You doubted they were as good as he claimed, but listened intently, nevertheless. “Prepare to have some fun tonight. I’ll pick you up at nine, so be ready. And Y/N…”

“Yeah?”

“Make yourself look all pretty for me, ok?”

You sighed. You did not like his words, and the nature of the fun Bucky wanted you to have seemed rather questionable. But you shoved your concerns down you throat and agreed as if you did not mind spending your time with a deranged criminal.

In the next half an hour you were texting Clint and hurrying to catch a bus to work. God, you still had 8 hours in the office ahead of you, and something told you keeping your concentration would be pretty much impossible. 

The day flew by: your colleague had completely forgotten to finish the PLN statement, and you gladly accepted to help her since it kept you busy. You skipped your lunch, staring into the columns of numbers and sipping your third or fourth coffee. Luckily, you were able to book an hour in the beauty salon close to home, so they would take care of your hair for the evening, but your thoughts were preoccupied with Bucky. What was he going to do to you? Your worst suggestion was that he wanted to sell you to one of his powerful friends. Not that you heard about human trafficking in your town, but you did not hear about a lot of things that happened, nonetheless.

It was quarter to nine when you finished applying dark red lipstick and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You had chosen a delicate lingerie style dress of black silk – it was probably the most expensive piece of clothing you had ever had, mind coats and boots. The lady in the salon had skillfully styled your hair, and now you looked like the star of Hollywood’s Golden Era. Of course, you were ready to put on high heels. You were sure Bucky would appreciate it.

When was the last time you dressed up so much for anyone? And yet, regardless how beautiful you felt tonight, it did nothing to ease your nerves. Before heading downstairs, you sent a message to Clint. If anything happened to you tonight, he was ought to give your mother the letter you wrote for her. 

“You look like a doll.” Bucky smiled, watching you going down the stairs. He was wearing just a white shirt with neatly rolled up sleeves and the top buttons opened, and a pair of black pants. This time the man had a three-day beard, and you immediately thought how much more mature he looked. 

“Thank you.” 

He opened the door of his fancy car for you like a gentleman, and you calmly got in. Once you fastened your seat belt, Bucky started the car and drove forward, still watching you rather than the road. You could be embarrassed by his close attention if you came with him willingly, but now you only thought about what were to happen next. You did not know Bucky admired your straight face as much as your looks. Oh yes, he knew you feared him like any other sane person, yet you refused to show it to him. He loved it.

“Where are we going?” You asked in a low voice, a serene expression on your face.

“To Rust.” 

A famous nightclub in the central part of the town. You had been there once or twice with your friends. There were a thousand more questions you were desperate to ask Bucky, but you refrained. You would learn what he intended to do with you soon anyway.

It was really loud inside: Rust had been one of the most popular places among party lovers in the town. Flashing purple lights almost blinded you for a minute, but soon you grew accustomed to both them and the terrible noise. 

“You can dance if you want to,” he said right in your ear, and you were close to flinch from the feeling of his breath on your skin, “But you’ll have more fun if you come with me. Where do you wanna go?”

As if you had a choice. It was so obvious Bucky needed you to go with him that he would definitely object if you prefer to stay on the dance floor. 

“I trust your judgment. Lead the way.” You gave him a half smile when he gently put his rough hand on your back and guided you through the crowd to the corridor behind the bar counter. Apparently, there were a dozen of private rooms, drunk voices and laugh coming from most of them.

_God, I don’t want to be sold like an exotic animal._

Bucky continued walking until he reached the stairs and went down, carefully holding you so you would not fall on your high heeled shoes. Well, if he was going to present you to his friends, he probably wanted you to look stunning.

The room he took you was spacious, with a big round table out of wood and six chairs standing in the middle. Four of the chairs were already taken by men in very formal suits that seemed a bit ridiculous in a nightclub. The strangers all looked a bit similar – they were broad-shouldered and muscular, with cleaned-shaved faces and a buzz cut. You could easily mistake them for the nightclub security.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” With a broad, but not truly genuine smile Bucky stepped in, and you followed him, keeping you head high. “Is everyone already here?”

“Hi, Soldier.” One of them stood up from his char and moved towards the two of you. “Yeah, I didn’t believe my eyes when Sam showed up on time. And who is this charming lady, may I ask?”

“Y/N is my guest tonight.”

Oh, you did not like it. You did not like Bucky’s tone of voice and the way his hand rested just above your ass. If you could see his face, you would know he came here not to offer you to his friends, quite the contrary. However, before you looked at him, the man in front of you quickly took your hand in his and briefly kissed it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Brock Rumlow.”

 _Breathe, just breathe_ , you reminded yourself while smiling politely at him. He was the man you were supposed to meet in the office. 

You sat at the right hand of Bucky, Rumlow next to you. No one else had presented themselves at the table, and you were quickly left alone with your thoughts when the men started talking about the things that did not concern you. Crossing your legs, you drank fine red wine from the glass Bucky offered to you, pretending there was nothing unusual in the situation you found yourself in. The rules of the game were pretty easy.

You had no idea how much time you spent there, listening how “the business” was going, but then Bucky shot Rumlow a glare, and the man suddenly pulled out a revolver. Holding your breath, you suddenly realized that three other men watched the revolver as intently as you. Something was not right.

“Sorry it took us so long, dear,” Bucky softly touched you by the shoulder. “We’re going to have some fun now. Have you ever played Russian roulette?”

Surprisingly, you did not shiver.

“No. But I know the rules.”

“Perfect. The thing is, I modified them a little bit. You do not spin the cylinder by yourself. I do it for you.” He looked totally calm, taking the revolver from Rumlow behind your back. “I’ll start, if you don’t mind.”

You were not sure why you did not storm out the room after he placed the muzzle against his head. How come you did not scream when Bucky pulled the trigger? Why did not you cry at the sound of the gun clicking? Why did you take the revolver from his hand and pressed it to your temple once Bucky was finished? It was beyond your understanding. But you were sitting in a room full of mobsters, having a revolver against your head. Five men were staring at you – three in silent horror, while Bucky looked at you with that sick smile of his. You hand felt heavy, but before you could say something your finger pulled the trigger, repeating Bucky’s movement.

One more loud click, but not the sound of a shot. You felt frozen, watching your former classmate collecting the revolver from your cold hands and spinning the cylinder for Rumlow. He fired the gun so calmly that you were sure it was not his first time playing Bucky’s games. Moreover, he did not even bat an eyelid. Horrified, you stared at the opposite wall, silently praying you would leave this place alive. Why was Bucky doing it to you? To them? It was clear the other men were not much eager to participate. Was it their punishment? Or was it yours? Did Bucky’s power play always end with a murder?

When you heard the shot and saw one man fell to the ground, painting the ceiling and the wall behind him red, you stared at the stony face of Rumlow. In his dark eyes you saw nothing but an abyss. He sent you a glance, and you understood you could not yelp. You had to endure it and be quiet unless you wanted Bucky to give you the revolver to continue playing.

You hardly remembered what happened next. Someone was saying to you something, but you did not get a word out of it, dumbly marching upstairs with Bucky and returning to his car. There he gave you something strong – probably whiskey or vodka, it was all the same to you then. When you coughed, smearing your lipstick with the back of your hand, he leaned closer to you and pressed his dry lips to yours, holding your head in his palms.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! There's a bit of NSFW in this chapter.  
> Thank you for your comments and kudos!

It was hard to understand how much time you spent in his car, numb and detached from reality. Surprisingly, your head started clearing up a bit after Bucky forced almost half a bottle of whiskey down your throat. You realized you were still driving around the city while the man right beside you smoke with his window open. Looking at the bottle in your hand, you suddenly remembered the sound of a shot and quickly drank the burning liquid again, coughing and smearing your makeup with a few tears. 

The next moment Bucky threw the cigarette butt out of the window and drop his hot calloused hand at your bare knee, squeezing it a bit. He wore a worried expression on his face, watching you cough.

“Feel any better, sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice was unexpectedly quiet and gentle as if he talked to his beloved one. For some reason, now nothing in him seemed faked.

“Yes.” It took you a few seconds to recognize your own raspy voice, and you gulped. “I’m better.”

“Good.” Softly caressing your skin, he watched your face. His lips were a bit red from kissing you, and the sight of them made you confused and embarrassed. He fucking kissed you, grabbed your head and forced his burning tongue into your mouth, devouring you when you were frozen with horror.

What the Hell had happened?

“Drink, love.” Bucky started drawing circles with his thumb on your knee. “You need a little more.”

You did not feel like arguing with him and made a few sips, squinting from the strong taste filling your mouth.

“Please, next time save some wine for me.” 

“No wine can do magic when you’re in shock. You have to get used to something stronger.” He smiled somewhat sadly and turned the car to the right, moving beside a huge abandoned factory. “I’ll teach you a thousand methods how to cool down fast.”

“My current job is not a very stressful one.” Sighing, you finally closed the bottle, trying not to think of the dead man lying in the room below the dance floor in Rust. “Camomile tea usually does the trick.”

“Not for much longer, sweetheart.”

There was something in his voice that forced you to look at him. Bucky seemed unusually tender and compassionate. Was he sorry for what he had done? You highly doubted it, still thinking of his reasons to bring you to that nightclub. No, he only wanted to finally tell you what you were going to do for him in exchange for his money. Maybe this evening was your little test before Bucky decided upon your future with Scorpions.

“So, what kind of job will it be?” You stared back at him blankly. “And when do I start?”

His expression changed to an almost astonished one in the very next second. A few more seconds passed before Bucky grinned, gripping your knee tighter, but then moved his hand slightly closer to your hip. Poor, oblivious you did not understand what he wanted you for. Were you even conscious when he kissed you? Maybe you were not, and that would explain your odd questions, though Bucky could imagine you were just blissfully unaware of the meanings of his advances. It was funny: you spent years apart, but he could see you did not change much, still blind to the feelings of others towards you. 

Before answering to you he turned his car again, and you immediately recognized the street you lived on. The man stopped close to the wide stairs and turned off the engine. Your jaw tensed.

“There are two things you need to keep in mind.” Now Bucky gave you his full attention, turning in his seat and facing you. “Rule number one: under no circumstances you are to take any drugs, marijuana included.”

This is one was not tough; you had never taken drugs before and did not plan to do it now. The only drug you truly enjoyed was chocolate, but it hardly interested your new employer.

“Rule number two: you do not sleep around. Ever."

His words made you smirk. What kind of job was Bucky offering to you with these weird rules? Well, they would probably suit a secretary or a personal assistant, something of this kind.

“These rules are easy, but you have to be more specific what you expect from me.”

“I expect you to be my best girl, sweetheart.”

It sounded like one more shot to you. When his hand moved higher again, you felt his fingers touching your inner thigh and shivered, trying to curl away involuntarily, but Bucky hovered above you, almost pressing your back to the window. His other hand landed on the top of your seat, locking you in your place. Of course, the door was locked. You had no way out.

“Shhh. I’m an animal, but I’m no monster.” You could feel his hot breath on your face, lips brushing against your temple. “Be a good girl for me, behave around my people, and I’ll get you anything you ask me to.”

 _Calm down_ , you commanded yourself. Show him you’re scared, and Bucky will eat you up. Keep cool. Concentrate. Do not struggle openly. Ask the right questions. 

It was much harder to keep your thoughts clear when his mouth slipped to your neck, his three-day beard scratching your bare shoulder lightly. It did not help that you drank half of the whiskey bottle – your own movements were clumsy and sluggish. Not that you had a chance to push an enormously big man like Bucky even if you were sober, though.

“But why?” You murmured and touched his face gently to make him look at you. “Why me?”

Surely, he had dozens of attractive women ready to throw themselves at him. Maybe he even dated several women at once and you were just another one in his collection.

God, he reached out to your panties, softly stroking your sensitive flesh through the thin fabric of your thongs. Bucky did not answer you, leaving a small bite on your shoulder instead, and you let out a mewl.

“I thought I’m not special. I thought… ah… that you’d kill me tonight for fun… B-bucky, wait.”

When he was almost laying down on you, his pupils dilated, he suddenly chuckled, inhaling the smell of your skin.

“I didn’t try to kill you. I wanted to show you some routine of mine. You see, love, the man who shot himself was a little rat thinking he could do some nasty things behind my back.” Bucky’s wide smile sent chills down your spine. “It wasn’t a coincidence the revolver fired in his hands.”

“Wait, but… How could you know? Russian roulette is a game of chance. No one knows when the round reaches the barrel of the gun.” 

“I do, honey. That’s why I spin the cylinder for you.”

He leaned back a bit, letting you catch your breath and frantically adjust the fallen straps of your dress. The leather of your car seat was burning your skin, making you shift uncomfortably. Shit, you were too drunk too struggle, yet too sober to let him do anything he wanted to you. Nothing made sense. Even if Bucky did not want you dead, why were you special? Was it one more game of his? You were sick of it all.

“Will you shoot me if I reject you?” You asked him tiredly, covering your chest with your hand and trying to distance yourself from him.

“No.” He sneered. “But I won’t play nice if you do. You’ll be my girl, sweetheart, and I don’t want anything other than _yes_ coming from that pretty little mouth of yours. But you won’t say no, will you? You always had a thing for people with power, dear.”

No. No, it was not true. You did not like men like him, pushy, aggressive, and too much dominant. He wanted you to do as he told, to control your life, to make you into his perfect little girl, and it was not the life you had ever wanted for yourself.

“Fuck, sweetheart, your cunt is already _throbbing_ around my fingers.”


	5. Chapter 5

He threw you on your bed once you barely closed the door of your apartment behind you. Watching you all flushed and shivering with anticipation and fear, Bucky bit his dry lips, unfastening his belt in a rush. You knew the look in his eyes too well – he would jump at you any second. You crawled on the bed until your back reached the wooden headboard.

God, why? Why was it happening to you? Clint had never said Bucky could not keep his trousers buttoned. What on Earth had aroused his interest? 

“Don’t be so scared, little bird.” The man had already abandoned his wrinkled shirt and put his knee on the bed. “I’ll give you anything you want. Do you want a wardrobe full of dresses? More jewellery? A nice car, maybe? A new house? I’ll give it all to you.”

“You said I’m not the one selling myself for handbags.” You desperately tried to keep your dress on when Bucky’s hand reached for your hem and tugged on it.

“Oh, you got it all wrong, honey.”

He was above you in a second, grasping your hands with his palm and pressing your legs with his own to prevent you from struggling. Your heart was beating loudly, blood hammering in your head. Bucky hummed, nuzzling your hair, and let out a little laugh.

“You’re not a part of Scorpions’ whore squad.” He slid his hand over your thigh, lifting your silk dress. “You’re the one and only. And you obey no one but _me_ , understood?” 

You whimpered when his fingers touched you wet core again, brushing against your clit. Trying to grip your legs tightly only made Bucky more eager, and he leaned closer to pull you into a heated kiss. Once he started to trace little circles with his thumb, you moaned louder and squeezed your eyes shut. It was hard to resist him, let alone show your indifference.

Sliding his fingers back and forth he finally pushed a finger inside, feeling how tight you were. Maybe you were not a virgin, but the last time you had sex was probably when you were still a student.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky growled. “But I will unless you let me prepare you. Stop fighting, sweetheart.” 

He had the manic look in his eyes, and you suddenly felt like he wanted to rip you apart. A pit opened in your stomach. What could you do to stop him? Bucky had outpowered you without a hitch in a matter of mere seconds. Your only chance to stay unscathed was to submit to him when he could still control himself, more or less.

Carefully, you unclenched your fists, breathing deeply and trying your best to relax. God, why did you come to him for help? You had never should for he would destroy your world and build it anew. The world where you stand by him and follow his every whim. Oh, you did not care for all these expensive jewellery, cars, houses, and whatever Bucky could give you in return. Nothing really mattered. 

“Atta girl.” He murmured and let go of your wrists. When you did not struggle against him, Bucky slowly backed away and gently pushed your thighs apart, enjoying your quiet submission. 

Once he finally pulled your panties down and leaned closer, you desperately closed your lips. His warm breath tickled your sensitive skin and then you moaned again, tugging on his hair when Bucky run his tongue along your flesh. Fuck, your cunt was throbbing.

After you came all over his face, you were grateful for his effort to make you completely wet - when he removed his trousers and showed you his huge cock, you were sure he’d just break you apart. It took quite some time to adjust to his length, but once you stretched enough Bucky did not stop fucking you into the mattress until your legs gave out completely. You did not care how loud you moaned for him anymore, cumming and crying and begging him to give you more, to kiss you more, to leave more dark red spots on your neck and to hold you in his arms. 

You wished it was all a dream when you woke up next morning.

Your head hurt from the amount of whiskey you drank yesterday while your tired body ached. Tossing and turning in an empty bed you rubbed your eyes: the man whose name you were screaming yesterday’s night was nowhere to be seen. Was he gone once he was finished with you?

 _Why do I even care_ , you asked yourself, feeling deeply hurt all of a sudden.

It was silly to expect something else, wasn’t it? He paid for you to do whatever he wanted and he had no reason to play the role of your loving boyfriend. In fact, maybe you were lucky he didn’t but his cigarette on your body or cut you in pieces.

Why were you upset? You had to be happy you got rid of him. He was the perpetrator of all your trouble, and he…

Wait, what was this sound? 

You covered yourself with a blanket and quickly got out of bed, hissing at the pain in your lower abdomen. When you saw Bucky with a bag stuffed with food from the local supermarket, quietly closing the front door, you gasped. The man immediately tensed up and looked over the room to find you staring at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry, hon,” he apologized to you right away and put the bag down, “I didn’t want to wake you up. Just, well, got some supplies for breakfast.”

His smile grew wider when Bucky took off his shoes and stepped closer to you, wrapping you in his arms. You backed off a little but then stopped upon feeling his long messy hair brush against your cheek. He did not run. He was still here with you. 

“Good morning, Bucky.” You exhaled loudly and put a hand on his back. “I… I thought…”

“Hmm? Yeah?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

You should have been angry at him. Furious. You should throw the bag with food he brought into his face and push him out of your apartment. You should yell at him for everything he had done. Why were you silent when he took your arm and sat you down in a chair in your kitchenette? You said nothing when he pulled a few eggs and a pack of milk to make a breakfast for you. You were silent, staring at the empty table when Bucky was frying bacon in front of you. 

No, you had to say something. You had to scream at him and tell him to leave. 

“Yesterday you said you could know when the gun fires if you spin the cylinder yourself.” Although you muttered it quietly, Bucky heard you and spin around with a pan in his hand. “How?”

He smiled at you with sudden warmth in his eyes.

“I met a few Russian soldiers when I was serving in the military. I learnt it from them. Want me to teach you?”

You spent a whole minute watching his face. 

“Yes. I do.”

When you heard him laughing again, surprisingly, it did not sound unnerving or disheartened to you. It felt like Bucky was as honest with you as ever.

In a few minutes, the bacon was all done and placed onto plates along with an omelette. You thought you had never been as hungry before, hastily shoving the food in your mouth and listening the man opposite you chuckling. Once you were finished, you grabbed some coffee he had made before and made a sip. 

“Listen, sweetheart, I know I’ve been a bit… rough yesterday,” he cleared his throat and gripped a cup in his hands. “But I want you to take it seriously. You’re my woman, and there are many things you got to learn, aside from keeping my company.”

You almost chocked on your food. Was he serious? _His woman_?

“Things like what?”

“Like shooting, honey. I’m not going to teach you how to take care of business unless you really want me to, but some things are necessary, nevertheless.” 

A few more minutes had passed before you were able to look at him again and open your mouth. Were you really going to say it? Were you goddamn insane? You were a few words afar from ruining you life, and yet you could not keep quiet.

After you had finished your coffee, you placed an empty cup on the table. You did not believe you were agreeing to it, but there was not much left to do once you realized Bucky wanted not a whore, but someone entirely different, and he would not let you off the hook. Not now. Not when he was watching you as intently as if you were deciding upon his own life, not yours.

“Alright then. When will you start teaching me to shoot?”

Bucky grinned at you.

“I knew I was right about you, sweetheart. I fucking knew it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this was the longest smut I've ever written! Please let me know whether you liked the end of the story!
> 
> Well, this fic was fun to write, I think it's one of my favorite now. As for the sequel, I'm not sure yet, to be honest, but maybe I will consider it in the future.  
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
